


is it so hard to believe?

by whatadramaqueen



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Banter, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) Is a Bad Parent, M/M, Road Trips, Suicide Attempt, but only in a flashback!! it's not vividly described, connor and evan are slowly getting better, evan is a sweetheart, not the POV of the person attempting suicide either, things stay fairly unresolved between connor and his family, uh sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:30:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatadramaqueen/pseuds/whatadramaqueen
Summary: "Connor?" Evan asks, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it. "How far along are you?"Connor, from where he's lying on his bed with his face mashed into the pillow, gives him only a noncommittal grunt."Not started yet, then," Evan concludes.Or: Connor and Evan get sick of their lives with their parents and leave





	is it so hard to believe?

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write something happy, okay? There's a lot of DEH fics out there with plenty of angst for those of you that love that kind of thing, so I tried to write something as happy as is possible in the DEH universe. So y'know, happy, but not too happy, obviously.

If you go into the Murphy household, walk down the hall, and push open the blank white door that resides there, you will find yourself in Connor Murphy's room. It's a nice room, though a little bare; white walls, dark sheets on the bed, the occasional jacket or pair of pants scattered over the floor, a near-empty bottle of black nail polish standing on the bedside table. There's a desk too, once filled with homework and crumpled up papers, but now standing austere. It had been teenager-like, once.

Evan Hansen has gone down the hallway hundreds of times and pushed open that blank white door; he's become a regular in the Murphy house. The person to call when Connor locked himself in his room and refused to let anyone in until he heard Evan's tentative knock.

"Connor?" He asks, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it. There hadn't been an episode today, but he'd wanted to come. "How far along are you?"

Connor, from where he's lying on his bed with his face mashed into the pillow, gives him only a noncommittal grunt.

"Not started yet, then," Evan concludes.

"I don't know  _ why  _ I can't start," Connor grumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I've wanted to get out of this house since I was fourteen. Why the fuck can't I put my fucking clothes into a fucking bag?"

"I can help," Evan offers, walking to the dresser and pulling open a drawer. Connor's entire monochrome selection of shirts looks back at him. Evan pulls out a shirt and tosses it at Connor's head, watching it float down to rest over his long dark hair. "I'll go through them and you keep or veto them."

"You mean you'll throw the clothes and I'll do all the work," Connor says, finally sitting up. He takes the shirt from his head, makes an affirmative noise after eyeing it critically for a few seconds, and places it at his side.

Evan finds a sweater next, an overlarge thing with baggy arms and a frayed collar. Connor makes a face when he catches it. "I never liked this. It doesn't fit me right, and it itches too much. Can you tell my mom to burn it?"

"I will definitely do that," Evan says, catching the sweater when Connor throws it back, fully intending to never in his life say those words to Mrs. Murphy. She's a nice woman, though he can sometimes tell why Connor doesn't get along well with, well, any of his family members.

They get through most of Connor's clothes, but Evan can't pretend not to notice the way Connor's shoulders are beginning to slump as they near the end, like every new article of clothing places a fresh weight onto them. Evan knows almost exactly what Connor is feeling; he too had packed his bags earlier, and every shirt and pair of jeans that he'd tucked into his bag just drove in even more the realization that he'd be leaving Heidi alone.

Evan doesn't know what weight is trying to keep Connor here, but the feeling is the same.

"Y-you okay?" Evan hasn't lost all of his nervous habits yet. He still stutters and fidgets and shifts his weight awkwardly when he's uncertain, but Heidi had once marveled how she hadn't heard him stutter in ages. That comment had not made him feel any better, but he'd tried to appreciate the effort.

Connor glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and attempts a smile. It comes out as a grimace.

Evan walks to the bed, and Connor's palms are cold on his cheeks when he reaches out and pulls Evan to him. The kiss is soft, comforting, a reassurance, barely more than a touch of lips.  _ Hey, I'm here, I won't leave. _

Abruptly, Connor pushes Evan down on the bed and crawls on top of him, suddenly hungrier, his fingers pushing away the collar of Evan's shirt to press his lips to Evan's neck. Evan stifles a groan and arches his back when Connor applies tongue and teeth, and it's with much reluctance that he reaches out to push at Connor's chest.

"Con," he breathes, and Connor stills, briefly. "Not here. Your parents are literally just down the hall."

"So?" His breath is warm on Evan's neck.

"You know why."

Connor makes an irritable noise, but instead of pursuing the matter, he presses his nose into the crook of Evan's neck, a heavy sigh escaping him. "This sucks. Let's just leave already."

"Connor, dinner!" Mrs. Murphy calls. Evan feels Connor stiffen, and mentally says goodbye to his Connor, the sweet Connor, the one that disappears as soon as he interacts with his family and takes forever to come back.

Connor drags his legs into the kitchen and Evan follows just behind him, trying and failing to keep his gaze from dropping to the floor. Mr. Murphy and Zoe are looking at him with their judgemental faces on.

Mr. Murphy had never taken well to Evan. He disagreed that putting two mentally ill teenagers together would help either of them, and had fought to keep them apart at the very beginning of Evan and Connor's tentative, budding relationship. After a lot of Connor sneaking Evan in and Mrs. Murphy (she keeps asking Evan to call her Cynthia but he can't bring himself to do it) begging, he'd grudgingly conceded, and now barely interacts with Evan other than to throw a barbed comment or disapproving look.

Evan resents Mr. Murphy for not realizing how Connor is improving, and for the underlying neglect that simmers below the surface of Connor's feelings for his family. Mrs. Murphy tries to make amends, tries to make up for the fact that she attempted to get rid of her son’s depression simply by ignoring it, but Mr. Murphy doesn't seem to even realize what he's done wrong.

If Evan really had to analyze Zoe's feelings towards him, he'd assume that she's merely baffled as to how Evan can spend so much time with Connor and come away reasonably mentally stable.

"Evan, darling, didn't realize you were here," Mrs. Murphy says warmly, and walks to the cabinet to bring another plate.

Evan belatedly realizes that he hadn't knocked when he'd entered the house, had just walked in, and immediately turns scarlet when the thought of how rude that had been hits him. He mumbles a quick, "Sorry," that none of them seem to hear.

Connor slouches into a chair, ignores his father's comment about sitting straight, and begins spooning mashed potatoes onto both his and Evan's plates. Dead silence follows, save for the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

"So, Connor, have you sent the application to that college we asked you to?" Mr. Murphy asks in what is probably a desperate attempt to break the silence.

"I've already received a reply," Connor says shortly. "Denied."

Mrs. Murphy's fork drops from her hand with a clatter. "Connor, you didn't tell me that!" She sounds betrayed, though Evan isn't sure why. There isn't much about his life that Connor shares with his family. Evan isn't even sure if Connor's told them that they're dating.

He'd told Evan about the college rejection, and hadn't seemed too beat up about it either. Connor didn't want to go to college. It had been a miracle that he'd made it through high school.

"I didn't think you were interested—" Connor begins, but Mr. Murphy abruptly interrupts.

"Evan. Did you know about it?" His eyebrows are dark over his eyes, his mouth twisted.

Evan startles so much that he slams his knee on the table, and can feel heat rushing to his face as he tries to work up a coherent response. He can count on one hand the number of times Mr. Murphy had addressed him willingly. "I-I'm—"

"Why the fuck are you dragging Evan into this?" Connor snaps. Evan feels Connor’s leg nudge against his and stay there, a quiet comfort. "I didn't tell you, who the fuck cares—"

"Let Evan answer the question, Connor."

"Yes! I told Evan, all right? He's the one who actually acts like he gives a shit about things like this! You fucking told me to apply months ago and haven't brought it up until now because you want to start some kind of fucked up drama—"

"I'm not starting drama!" Mr. Murphy roars. "I just want to know if my son is going to stay in my house for the rest of his life!"

"I'm not!" Connor retorts furiously. "I'm getting out of here as soon as I fucking can—"

"Connor, sweetheart, your father didn't mean it like that," Mrs. Murphy says pleadingly, desperately trying to placate the two. "We're okay having you here, it's just—"

"You sure as shit don't act like it!"

Evan glances over at Zoe opposite him, who's nonchalantly sipping her milk and resolutely ignoring the war raging around her. She glances up, meeting his eyes, and probably sees the concern and horror in them.

"Mom, Dad, why are you fighting with Connor when we have a guest over? Have some goddamn respect," Zoe snaps, and doesn't see Evan's flinch. The last thing he wants is their murderous attention on him, or for Zoe to get in trouble for speaking to her parents like that.

Fortunately, however, her words have the desired effect. Mrs. Murphy claps her hands over her mouth, looking like she wants to sink through the floor. Mr. Murphy scowls and returns his eyes to his plate. Zoe continues eating, unfazed.

Connor looks like Zoe just slapped him. He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. "I've lost my appetite."

"Connor, sit down," Mrs. Murphy begs. "Let's just have a normal dinner."

"Sorry, that dream has been fucking obliterated," Connor says, and walks out of the room. Evan follows, feeling three pairs of eyes on his back.

"I need to leave. Now. Tonight. I don’t care," Connor snarls when Evan closes the door of his room behind him. "I can't stay under their fucking roof for a second longer." He's cramming clothes into his bag, furiously slamming drawers. His face is twisted in a way that Evan is almost scared of, creating lines around his eyes and mouth that Evan has never seen before.  _ Almost.  _ Evan can honestly say that he hasn’t been scared of Connor for a long, long time.

Connor glances over at him, visibly softening when he sees the distance Evan's standing from him. "Don't look at me like you're terrified of me," he says quietly.

"I'm not," Evan says, and it’s the truth. "I'm giving you space."

Connor gives him a look that says he doesn't appreciate liars, but doesn’t pursue the matter any further.

It's the best thing to do, though. Anger management has always been a problem with Connor, and he doesn't like to be touched when he's in this state of mind; the best thing to do is to stay out of his way and wait until he comes to Evan.

Connor kicks the bedframe one last time, then calmly zips up his bag and shoulders it. "Can we leave tonight?" He asks, in a perfectly civil voice. His hair is unkempt, his eyes dark. Evan wants to say no, but the thought of leaving Connor here with these people for any longer scares him, angers him even.

Evan nods. "I'll go home, get everything ready, and pick you up at one?"

Connor agrees with a stiff jerk of his head. Evan doesn't want to leave him, not when he's like this, but he shuts the door with a soft click behind him.

-

He picks Connor up at one in the morning, as promised. The Murphy house is dark and silent, save for a soft flickering light from Connor's window. A moment after Evan's van pulls up to the driveway, the light is extinguished, and Connor's bag drops from the window. Connor himself follows seconds after.

He promptly falls asleep as soon as the van leaves their town, head resting on the window ledge, his hand inches from Evan's on the gearstick, like he'd wanted to reach out for him but hadn't wanted to disturb.

Most of the time, Connor appears peaceful when he sleeps. This time, his forehead is crumpled and his eyelids twitch, tell-tale signs of a nightmare happening behind them. The road yawns open before them, headlights slicing through the darkness.

Evan had told Heidi that they were leaving. She had been disappointed but not surprised. She'd helped him pack, hugged and kissed him goodbye, cried a little. Then she'd made a remark about how "her little boy was all grown up", handed him a thermos full of coffee, and kissed him goodbye one last time. She hasn't tried to call him yet, but Evan knows that'll come in the morning.

He's tired, but not too tired. Not tired enough that he'll fall asleep. He knows he needs to get Connor out of here, that Connor'll feel much better if he wakes up and hundreds of miles are between him and his family. That's what keeps Evan going through the night, through heavy eyelids and periodic sips of coffee.

-

** _(before)_ **

_ Evan had liked Zoe first. The thought seems alien and strange to him now, when there aren't even any lingering traces of his affection. When he'd looked at her before, he'd loved the orange streaks in her hair, the stars she scribbled on her jeans, the way she smiled like she loved the world around her. _

_ Now, she's just there, a lovely figure who will take his side in school, and notice when he's panicked, and smile at him, but they're both comfortable in the knowledge that neither of them like each other in that way anymore. _

_ He doesn't know when the affection had shifted to her brother, a sullen, sarcastic, abrasive presence, who wore black nail polish and almost never brushed his hair and had snapped at him when they first met and barely ever smiled. _

_ He knows it happened somewhere in the times when Zoe brought him to their house and had briefly disappeared to do something else, leaving Evan alone with Connor in the living room. They'd been cautious at first, Evan very clearly having a crush on Connor's sister, and Connor being protective of said sister. _

_ He remembers the first time warmth had been in Connor's voice when they spoke. It had been a particularly bad day for Evan, his stutter worse than it had ever been, so bad he'd barely been able to speak, and Connor had looked at him like he understood. Though Connor had barely spoken in earlier conversations, had been content to let Evan ramble, he'd talked now in a soft and slightly raspy voice, letting Evan sit quietly and wait for the heat in his cheeks to recede. _

_ When Zoe had returned with two mugs of tea, Connor had abruptly fallen silent, and disappeared when Zoe gave him a suspicious look. _

_ "You got him to talk?" she'd asked, bewildered. _

_ Evan had just nodded mutely, taking a small sip and averting his eyes. He hadn't known at the time just why he couldn't look her in the eye. _

-

**(now)**

Connor wakes in the early hours of dawn, when the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon and illuminate the landscape with red and orange. They've reached a small town near the ocean that Evan and his father had once visited when he was really young. His father had fished while Evan ran around the beach and searched for shells. It's a memory that stings a little, but Evan still enjoys the place.

Evan's phone trills, and he doesn't even have to look at it to know that it's Heidi. He contemplates ignoring it, but can't think of an excuse to use later.

"Hey, mom."

Heidi opens with, "Cynthia and Larry are worried sick."

Evan winces, glancing at Connor out of the corner of his eye. He's looking out the window, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm sure."

"Why did they have to hear about this from me? They love their son, Evan, they deserve to know if he up and leaves. They were scared he was  _ dead _ ."

"Mom, I'm really not the person to talk to about this," he forces out. "They should call him if they really want to talk to him."

Connor's head whips around, eyes wide.

"They didn't ask me to do anything, Ev, I'm just wondering why they had to come to me to find out that their son had left the state."

"Mom, I have to go."

_ "Evan. Hansen.  _ You stay on this phone or I will personally drive up there and drag you back by the— _ " _

"I'm sorry, I really do. I'll call you later." He clicks the end call button and glances up at Connor, who's biting his nails and staring contemplatively into the distance.

"They're not calling me because they don't have my number," he says. "They never asked for it."

A pang goes through Evan, something protective and angry and fierce. He reaches over and laces their fingers together. Connor squeezes his hand and doesn't meet his eyes.

"Want to go swimming?"

Connor seems surprised at the question. "I didn't pack any swim clothes."

"Me neither. We'll swim fully clothed. Who's going to stop us?"

Connor smiles, faintly.

-

Evan had forgotten just how vast the ocean is, how it stretches and gapes beyond the horizon. He'd forgotten just how big the waves got, and how the salt stayed on his skin for hours after he left the water.

"You realize we're going to run out of money eventually, don't you?" Connor asks while they're eating sandwiches on a secluded part of the beach, hidden from the eyes of the public by an outcropping of rock. He's digging his feet into the sand and not meeting Evan's eyes.

Sometimes he does that. He'll refuse to look Evan in the eye, occasionally for days on end, but most of the time just for a few minutes or hours. Will draw into himself and only emerge when he decides it's fit to leave.

"Yeah," Evan says, swallowing the last mouthful of his own sandwich and tucking the foil into his pocket. They've been at the beach since early morning, and now the hot afternoon sun kisses his skin and reflects off the blue-green water. It'll be time to leave soon. "We'll have to think of jobs somewhere along the line, but we'll be okay for a while."

"Are we going to go back?"

"Not if we don't want to."

His phone has been silent for the hours that they'd been at the beach, but it buzzes now. The number isn't familiar. Evan thumbs the Accept Call button and switches it to speaker, ready to inform someone that they have the wrong number. "Hello?"

"Is this Evan Hansen?" The voice is female, shaky, and unmistakable. Evan feels Connor go stiff against his side.

"Mrs. Murphy?"

The woman breathes an audible sigh of relief that rushes through the phone in a staticky rattle. "Yes. It's me. Your mother gave me your phone number." There's a long pause, and Evan imagines the woman working up to courage to speak again. "How are you doing? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. So is Connor." Evan doesn't pretend not to know the real reason she's calling.

Connor doesn't look fine. His face is white, teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to leave indents. His eyes are fixed on the horizon like he wishes he could be there instead of here.

"Could—could I speak to Connor? Larry and Zoe are here too, we'd like to—"

Evan glances at Connor, who begins frantically shaking his head, looking only a few words from his mother away from hurling himself back into the ocean.

"Actually, he's, uh, not with me right now—"

"Evan, you're a terrible liar." The voice is Zoe's, and Evan can almost see her, leaning forward in her seat with that small smile she always wears whenever they speak. "We all know Connor's right there next to you."

The panic is fading from Connor's eyes to be replaced with the annoyance and anger that Evan had begun to associate as his 'family face'. He'd hoped to not have to see that face for a while, but the universe apparently had other plans. Curse Heidi for being so eager to distribute his phone number.

"No, uh, he's—"

"It's fine, Evan," Connor says, leaning closer so that the phone picks up his voice. "What do you want, mom?"

"Connor," Mrs. Murphy sighs, like the name is a lifeline. "Are you all right?"

"Evan already told you that I'm fine," Connor says brusquely, but his voice has softened somewhat. Evan braces himself for when Mr. Murphy will inevitably speak.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," Mrs. Murphy continues in a rush. "We didn't want to make you feel like you should leave, your father—"

"Did you have to drag Evan along on whatever you're trying to accomplish, Connor?" Mr. Murphy interrupts, voice low with unbridled anger, and it's so much worse than Evan had been expecting. "He's an all right boy, he should go to college and he does not deserve to feel forced to accompany you on this, this  _ cry for attention _ because he's your friend."

Evan can't breathe.

He opens his mouth, but Connor beats him to it. "I don't know what fucking delusion you're operating under," he fumes, "but I don't force Evan to do anything. Ever. And this is  _ not a fucking cry for attention. _ "

It feels like there's water rushing through Evan's ears. His head is spinning. Senseless noise. Connor's voice cracking like he's in pain. Mr. Murphy snarling another harsh incomprehensible jumble of noises. Stabs of pain in his palms.

"Evan, stop," Connor whispers, taking his hand. The indents of Evan's fingernails remain in the flesh of his palm, tiny crescents. Connor's hand is rough and warm, and Evan can find comfort in it, somewhat.

It's still difficult to breathe, but it's easier.

"Larry! Leave the room! Go, right now!" Evan has never heard Mrs. Murphy sound so furious. Her voice in that pitch feels vaguely like something Evan shouldn't be hearing. Like a whispered, private conversation. "I'd like to have a civilized conversation with our son, thank you, and clearly that's not going to happen with you around."

Connor is clutching Evan's hand so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. Evan closes his eyes, tries to breathe.

"Connor, I'm so sorry," she says, softly.

"I'm not coming back," Connor rasps.

"I won't ask you to," she whispers. "I just hope you'll look after yourself. And each other."

"We will," Connor says. There's a pause while they both wait for her to say more, and when she doesn't, Connor hangs up. "You okay?" He asks, quietly, like he's guilty.

Evan nods, squeezing his hand reassuringly, though Connor had been the one to ask him. "Let's head out."

-

** _(before)_ **

_ The first time Evan had met Connor, he'd shoved Evan to the ground as he passed, snarling, "You think I’m a freak?  _ You’re  _ the freak!" Coincidentally (not really), he'd met the younger Murphy sibling that same day, rushing over to him to apologize for her brother's actions. Evan had made a complete fool of himself. The memory is still painfully embarrassing. _

_ At the time, Connor had been at the very peak of his depressive episodes. The suicide attempt a few days later proved that. _

_His had been the one of the first suicide attempts of their school’s students. It had been a nightmare: students being absolute dickheads about it, Zoe reportedly having a difficult time concentrating because of the mob of students asking her to rehash the suicide attempt of _her goddamn brother_, assemblies to discuss the very prominent issue of mental health and teenage suicides._

_ One of the worst things was that everything died down after a week. By the time Connor was back in school, pale, swaying slightly, the majority of students and teachers had all but forgotten about him. _

_ The other worst thing was that Evan understood completely. To feel like no one cared, to feel like no one heard. The cast on his arm was a stark and painful reminder of that. Heidi didn't even know about his suicide attempt. Neither did anyone at the school. _

_ Connor walked around the school like he was in a daze, like this was the first time he'd seen the school in years. He bumped into students, lockers, doors. He bumped into Evan once. _

_ Evan, at the time, was a scrawny kid with social anxiety that cringed away at the slightest touch. Connor was significantly weaker than he'd been months before, but still just heavier enough than Evan to send them both sprawling. _

_ Evan could hear the students around them snickering, could feel his face burning. "I-I'm s-sorry," he'd stuttered out numbly, watching Connor push himself into a kneeling position and start recollecting his books. "I w-wasn't—" _

_ "Not your fault," Connor had mumbled once his books were in a neat pile in his arms. He'd sent a searing glower at the students watching them, and, once they'd started to disperse, climbed to his feet. "You're the one with a crush on my sister," he'd said solemnly. _

_ Evan had stammered out an incredulous denial so convoluted and dishonest that he doesn't even remember the exact words he'd used. _

_ Connor had walked away with only a twitch of his eyebrow, pushing his books into the leather pack hanging from his shoulder. _

-

**(now)**

Connor drives while Evan sleeps off the night. When he wakes up, he has no idea where they are, and apparently, neither does Connor. He'd simply decided to drive in the opposite direction of their hometown and put as much distance between him and his family as possible.

The next few months are a blur of motels, sleeping in the cramped car, and eating shitty food from shitty restaurants. They drive through Kansas, and Nebraska, and North Dakota, and Evan can’t help but think that he misses the ocean. But he doesn't mind the endless road so much as he minds the dwindling supply of money. He mentions this to Connor, who drives them back to Kansas, with only the simple explanation that they'd be able to find a cheap apartment there with a confidence that Evan is not sure he should be feeling.

They do find one, however. It’s a small, terrible place with ugly beige walls and scuffed floors, but it has a den and a kitchen and a bedroom, and Evan loves it.

He works as a barista at this quaint little coffee shop while Connor, who had proven not to be able to work retail due to his flaring temper, works as an assistant at a small mechanic shop near their place. Connor likes to call it the most useless job to ever be invented.

He seems happy, though, happier than Evan had ever seen him back at their old town.

At least, until Jared Kleinman walks through the door of Evan’s coffee shop one day.

He peers around the cafe, lighting up when he sees Evan behind the counter. "Hey, man," he grins, walking up and shaking Evan's hand like they've suddenly become mature adults in the months that they haven't seen each other. "I need a favor."

-

"Jared Kleinman wants to come live with us," Connor says, deadpan, unimpressed. They're curled up together on their small couch, Connor's finger idly tapping a rhythm into Evan's collarbone. "The Jared Kleinman from high school? The one that called me a school shooter?"

"Uh, that's him," Evan says.

"How did that asshole find us anyway," Connor mutters, more to himself than to Evan, and less of a question than a statement.

"Well, we've been here for a few months," Evan says generously, though he has absolutely no idea how Jared had found them. When he'd asked, Jared had given him a toothy grin and said, "Let's just say you're both ridiculously easy to track down." This, of course, left implications open that Evan did not want to delve into, so he'd discarded the topic.

"He must have a tracking device in your phone," Connor says reasonably.

"I bought a new phone while we were on the road," Evan reminds him.

"Tracking device in your car?"

"Could be." There's a pleasant lull in the conversation, until Evan sighs and says, "You still haven't given me an answer."

"I thought it was obvious in context," Connor says.

Evan groans and sits up with difficulty, purposefully jostling Connor enough to get him to pay attention again. "He doesn't have anywhere to go, or a place to work. We just need to support him for a while. Come on, we can do it."

"It's not a question of if we  _ can _ ; it's a question of if we  _ want to.  _ I don't  _ like _ Jared Kleinman."

"He was my only friend for most of high school."

"You told me he was just there because his parents paid his bills or whatever if he hung out with you," Connor grins, quirking an eyebrow. "Come on, Ev, he's a dick and you don't owe him anything."

“I don’t want him on the street,” Evan says stubbornly.

Connor groans, pressing a hand onto Evan’s hip to keep him from getting up and leaving. “So we’re just going to blindly support him, and he’s not going to do anything? Not pay for the groceries or rent, nothing?”

“It’s just until he gets a job.”

_ “Evan.” _

-

"Oh, he said yes?" Jared asks, delighted, leaping to his feet and almost knocking his cup of coffee to the ground. He’s grinning as he steadies it. "Connor! I knew you'd come through! You've always been like a brother to m—"

"Don't make me regret it," Connor says warningly.

"Ah, yes," Jared deflates a little, but his grin doesn’t fade. "Thanks so much, guys. I won't be any trouble."

-

Those, of course, were empty words. Jared moves in. He’s delighted at how much this pains Connor, but is also intelligent enough not to push the boundaries too much, lest Connor’s patience snap and not even Evan’s influence can save him from being kicked out. He keeps the snide jokes and remarks to a minimum, but it’s  _ Jared.  _ The occasional few slip through.

Evan can tell that Connor is not at all pleased at the constant, daily reminder of their high school years. Though Jared tries not to be too much of a douche, even the presence of him drains Connor, reminds him of the taunts and bitterness of the worst years of his life.

It worries Evan, enough that he sometimes ponders talking to Jared about it. After he decides that there actually is no polite and tactful way to kick someone out onto the street, he gives up and just decides to keep a concerned eye on Connor.

-

** _(before)_ **

_ "Alana, you don't mind working with Jared, do you? No? Wonderful. Jared, if she breathes one word to me of having done all the work alone, there will be dire consequences. Anyway, moving on—Gina, you can work with Emily, and—" The teacher paused, scanning the room for any students she might have missed. Her eyes lighted on Zoe, and moved on to a remote corner of the room to land on Evan. "—Zoe and Evan! You two would be compatible. Thoughts?” _

_ She smiled at Zoe, who gave her a hesitant look back. "Sure?" _

_ "Evan?" _

_ "I-I, um, yes?" Evan stammered, resolutely refusing to lift his eyes from the graffiti on his desk. He could feel eyes burning into him, and hoped that they weren't Zoe's. _

_ "Great. That's everyone. I'll assign the topics tomorrow." _

_ That was how Evan had ended up in the Murphy house for the first time, with the lovely new furniture and the walls cluttered with photographs. The photographs were the biggest distinction from the Hansen’s house; Heidi had refused to hang any photos of Evan’s father, claiming the memories were too painful, and there weren’t enough photos of the years after to even bother to hang. _

_ In the Murphy household, you could watch the growth of the two children and the aging of the adults. Zoe as a little girl, smiling widely with gaps where her front teeth should be, clutching onto the arm of a tentatively smiling Connor. A few walls away, a picture of Connor sitting cross-legged on the grass at about age ten, resentfully glaring at the camera. Another of Zoe right next to that one, hair a mess and a bewildered expression. A family photo: none of them smiling. _

_ Evan couldn’t imagine the memories behind the photos being fond, but Zoe ushered him away from the wall and into the kitchen, promptly causing him to forget about it due to his embarrassment at being caught. _

_ After they’d worked on the project for some time, Mrs. Murphy insisted Evan stay for dinner, despite his weak protests. It was a strained event, because a rumpled Connor traipsed into the room ten minutes late, wrapped in a sweater even though the room was scorching, hair disheveled. He didn’t speak a single word, but his presence wiped out the pleasant conversation nevertheless. Evan saw a drop of blood run from the sleeve of the sweater and down Connor’s thumb as they ate, watched the boy wipe it away as if it wasn’t even something that concerned him. None of the rest of his family members even noticed, and if they did, they chose not to comment. _

_ Evan wanted to leave. _

-

**(now)**

“Jared, get your fucking legs off the couch. It’s not yours just because you sleep here.”

A noncommittal grunt. “I’m trying to  _ sleep _ .”

“And I want to watch TV, so fuck off. Go find a job or a boyfriend to support you.”

“I’m straight.”

“Wow, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.  _ Move your fucking fee _ —”

Evan sighs and slams his mug down into the sink loudly to warn them that they’re aggravating him. Connor tells him it’s passive behavior to simply make a deafening crash instead of confronting them about it, but Evan could literally not care less if he tried to. If he had to tell them verbally to tone it down every ten minutes, he’d probably go insane.

They quiet down, but only moderately. Jared must have decided to move his feet, because the topic is dropped, but he can still hear them griping quietly at each other every few minutes.

His phone pings, a text from Zoe to warn him that her parents are about to call. Connor still adamantly refuses to give them his phone number, but it doesn’t dissuade them from calling Evan at least every week to check on them both. The conversations are always awkward and stilted, but at least they  _ call.  _ Heidi had at the start, but eventually the frequent calls and texts had stopped. She makes sure to try and FaceTime at least once a month, and Evan understands she’s busy. He thinks it’s lovely that the Murphy’s are trying to make amends.

Still. The conversations are tiring and often not productive for either party.

Evan’s phone doesn’t ring; the FaceTime jingle begins to sing from his laptop. He pokes his head out into the living room and hisses, “Put your shirts on, Connor’s parents want to FaceTime.”

Connor and Jared glance up from the TV, both wearing faces of vague discontent. Connor has somehow gotten Jared onto the floor, and is lying stretched out on the couch, eyes heavy-lidded. He lets out an aggravated groan, but pushes himself into a sitting position. Evan watches his stomach muscles flex, and then mentally slaps himself.

Jared pulls the blanket around his shoulders tighter and frowns, affronted. “I’m wearing a shirt,” he protests, opening the blanket to prove it. “I don’t know why Connor isn’t. It’s not that hot, dude.” He aims his last sentence at Connor.

“Shirts are for losers,” Connor says.

“Connor calling Evan a loser again? Never thought I’d live to see the day,” Jared smirks, and dodges the vicious kick that Connor aims at him.

“Connor. Shirt,” Evan snaps, disappearing back into the kitchen to click Accept.

“Jared, give me the goddamn blanket,” Connor hisses from the other room. “Don’t make me—”

“Oh, hello, sweetheart,” Mrs. Murphy says, beaming when she sees Evan. “It’s lovely to see you again. How are things?”

“Wonderful,” Evan says dryly. “A high school friend moved in with us.”

“Would it by any chance be Jared Kleinman? Tell him he worried his parents by dropping off the face of the earth,” Mr. Murphy intones, suddenly appearing in the frame. Evan still has mixed feelings towards the man. He clearly cares for his son if he insists on showing up for every phone call and FaceTime session, but the poorly concealed barbed comments are still present. 

“That’s him,” Evan says. “His parents call. He already knows.”

He talks with Mrs. Murphy, gives her messages to relay to his mother once she sees her again, listens to the stories she tells him. He passes the laptop to Connor a few minutes later, before leaning his back against the armrest, stretching his legs out and onto Connor’s lap. Connor puts the laptop onto Evan’s knees. Maybe a nap—

“—I have to say, Connor, before Evan told me that this Jared Kleinman boy moved in, I thought you and Evan were together,” Mr. Murphy comments a few minutes later, effectively jarring every single trace of sleep out of Evan’s head.  _ What?  _ He hears Jared stifle a snicker, and wants desperately to aim a kick at his head, but unfortunately, his legs are pinned. Connor blinks at the screen, startled.

“What?”

“Come on, son, you ran away together and you’ve been living together for months. Don’t tell me that you don’t realize that’s a little—”

“No, no, that’s not it. I mean. Um. Evan and I have been dating for long before we even left. I, uh, never told you?” Connor sounds genuinely confused, and he’s turning red now, such a rare occurrence that Evan can almost feel happy for this awkward mess of a conversation.

"You're together?" Mr. Murphy splutters, disbelief coloring his voice, like he believes this is some elaborate prank they’ve decided to play. "You're gay? It was a joke! I was joking!"

"That's lovely, Connor dear," Mrs. Murphy says, muffled with distance. She’d disappeared a while ago to let Connor talk with his father alone, and Evan imagines her nonchalantly knitting, not at all surprised by the news. "We accept you."

"B-but Evan had a crush on Zoe! I swear he did!" Mr. Murphy protests.

"Well, dad," Connor says blandly, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "this thing called bisexuality exists."

“Evan! Are you there?”

Evan braces himself and leans into the frame, placing his head on Connor’s shoulder to fit, essentially sitting on Connor’s lap. Connor had forgone to put on a shirt, had instead just wrapped Jared’s blanket around himself, and the action causes the fabric to slip slightly, revealing Connor’s bare shoulder and chest. “Yeah?”

Mr. Murphy blanches. “Oh my god, he’s not joking. They’re actually together, Cynthia.” He looks around frantically, and his eyes catch on something to his left. “Zoe! Did  _ you _ know?”

Zoe pauses as she walks past, giving her father a disbelieving look. She schools her features when she realizes he’s serious. “Uh, I suspected. They were kind of obvious about it.”

Jared starts to laugh uproariously, and Connor aims another kick at his head. Both Evan and Connor are bright red by now, though Connor is still in denial about it.

“I need to, uh, process this,” Mr. Murphy says, and tosses the laptop at Mrs. Murphy. As the screen dissolves into the blurry jumble of colors, Evan squeezes Connor’s arm. Connor shrugs, as if the news that his father is homophobic does not bother him in the slightest.

“I’m sorry about him, Connor,” Mrs. Murphy says, looking genuinely apologetic. “He’ll get over it.”

“I’ve just given him another excuse to hate me, Mom,” Connor replies nonchalantly. “He won’t get over it.”

“He will _ ,”  _ Mrs. Murphy insists. “He’d better. And he doesn’t hate you, sweetheart; he just thinks you don’t try hard enough.”

” _ Fuck him,”  _ Connor says vehemently. Mrs. Murphy doesn’t call him out on the language, but Evan sees her face fall, almost imperceptibly. He knows that deep down, she just wants her family to get along. And with a husband and son as incompatible as Mr. Murphy and Connor, it’s near impossible. He feels sorry for her. “I have a job and an apartment and a boyfriend,” Connor continues, scowling. “I don’t know how much harder he wants me to try.”

“I don’t either,” she whispers, attempting a smile. “He  _ will  _ get over it, Connor. I’ll make sure of it. Just remember that I accept you, and so does Zoe.”

-

** _(before)_ **

_ Connor suddenly appeared in the doorway to Zoe’s room, eyes flickering between the two of them as they studied on her bed. This wasn’t a rare occurrence; in fact, it was so common that Evan didn’t even feel the urge to launch himself away from the boy anymore. Connor had always presented a hostile vibe, but it softened in the hours that Evan spent at the Murphy house, and Evan didn’t know if it was because the unfriendliness was simply reserved for school, or that Connor just became more easygoing in his time at home. _

_ Maybe it was something else entirely. _

_ “What is it this time, brother dear?” Zoe asked patronizingly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He scowled at her. _

_ “Mom wants your help with dinner.” His voice was low, growly, but Zoe didn’t even bat an eye at the tone. _

_ “I have Evan,” she complained. “Tell her I have Evan over.” _

_ “No,” Connor said, leaning back against the doorframe. “She’ll ask me to help if I do. Hey, Evan.” _

_ “Hi, Connor,” Evan replied with a sheepish smile, and blinked, realizing that he hadn’t stuttered. Connor must have noticed too, because a small smile of his own lurked at the corner of his mouth. _

_ Zoe looked between them, mildly irritated, before wearily getting to her feet. “You want to stay for dinner, Evan?” _

_ “I-I shouldn’t—” _

_ “Oh, it’s no trouble. Just stay here until we finish. It’ll only take five or ten minutes.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and left the room, with only a single glance at Connor that managed to perfectly convey,  _ if you scare away my friend, there will be hell to pay.

_ Evan looked up at Connor cautiously. He had perched himself onto Zoe’s dresser, and was looking back at Evan with a peculiar look in his eyes. _

_ “Do you have a crush on Zoe?” he asked, tilting his head. It was the statement that he’d presented a few months ago, but this time phrased as a question. Somehow, the distinction felt important. _

_ The truth was that Evan didn’t know anymore. His crush on Zoe had been such an enormous part of his life for so long that he hadn’t even realized when it started to fade. He didn’t know when it had happened that he looked at her and didn’t want to kiss her, he didn’t want to touch her cheek, he didn’t want her to love him back. _

_ He still very much liked Zoe, though. It was just a softer love, a simpler kind. He still wanted her to like him. He still wanted to spend time with her. _

_ “I don’t know,” he admitted truthfully. _

_ Connor raised his eyebrows, a perfect expression of disbelief. _

_ “I really don’t. I think—” He trailed off, looking at Connor.  _ Connor.  _ His brown eyes, his long unruly hair, his exceptionally pretty smile. Currently, Connor was not smiling, but it was the moment that Evan realized that he wanted him to. _

_ Evan quickly averted his eyes, turning bright red and fiddling with the pencil in his lap. There was no way he liked Connor. Over Zoe? Who did something like that? Who would choose the surly, antagonistic boy over the charming, beautiful girl? An idiot, that’s who. _

_ When Evan looked up, Connor was smiling, but it was bitter, almost ugly compared to the true smile Evan sometimes managed to catch a glimpse of. “You stopped having a crush on her once you spent time with her?” _

_ Evan scowled. “No, of course not.” _

_ Connor grinned even wider, baring his teeth. “Why are you always here, then? If you suddenly don’t have a crush on her?” _

_ See? Connor was an asshole. He didn’t care about Evan. _

_ “I like her,” Evan said defensively. “She’s my friend.” _

_ Connor’s smile faded into something more contemplative. Evan quickly returned to his notebook, trying to ignore the attention of the other boy. Connor didn’t move, and a few minutes later, the call for supper drifted up the stairs. _

-

**(now)**

Fights aren’t exactly common between Connor and Evan. Actually; it might even be possible to count their total number of fights since their relationship started on one hand. When they do fight, however, a layer of ice settles down over their surroundings. Connor snarls and Evan scowls and Jared tries his best to stay out of their way.

It’s over something so trivial that Evan can barely believe a disagreement could come out of it, much less a full-blown fight. It’s clear that Jared can’t either.

“Connor, for fuck’s sake, where the hell do you expect me to sleep?”

Evan ferociously yanks off one of his shoes as he eavesdrops on the conversation going on outside the bedroom. He isn’t too keen about sharing a bed with Connor in this very moment either, but he wouldn’t make a  _ scene  _ about it.

“Uh, with Evan. Or on the floor.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to fucking do that.”

“Do I need to remind you that you’re not paying rent? You don’t own anything here. I can do what I want.”

Jared lets out a stream of expletives that makes even Evan, who is already used to vulgar words such as those being used frequently around him by Connor, cringe. A moment later, he storms into the bedroom, catching Evan just as he’s pulling a clean shirt over his head.

“Fix your goddamn relationship,” Jared fumes, flopping down onto the bed. His glasses make a soft crunching noise, and Evan winces. “It’s torture living with you.”

“Move out then,” Evan says stiffly.

Jared levels exasperated eyes on him. “You know I can’t do that.”

Evan sighs and sits down next to him on the bed, tucking his legs up underneath himself. “I won’t apologize. I already do all the apologizing. I’m not doing it again."

Jared swivels to face him. “That’s a bullshit attitude and you know it. A relationship takes two.” 

Evan stiffens. What the hell does Jared know about their relationship? He digs his heels into the bed, trying to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Fuck you. You don’t know anything about me.  _ Or _ him.” 

Jared sighs, flopping backwards and nearly slamming his head into the headboard. Evan venomously wishes that he had. “I dunno, dude. Yeah, sure, he should apologize, but I don’t think you should let something stupid like this break you up.” 

“We’re not going to break up.” 

“You sure?” 

Evan lies down next to him, clutching the pillow to his chest. There’s a bitterness inside him, something dark and angry and jittery, but he’s always been able to tamp it down, to love Connor despite everything about him that grates like sandpaper against Evan’s skin. It flares, now and then, like when Connor doesn’t apologize even for small things. 

He knows that it’s insecurity. Insecurity and depression and nervousness and resentment, bundled into something uncontainable. 

So Evan won’t apologize. If he apologizes, takes blame for something he doesn’t think is his fault, the bundle of darkness will only grow and become more stifling. To take Jared’s eloquent words,  _ a relationship takes two,  _ and sometimes Connor needs to pull weight instead of Evan. Or at least help Evan with the weight. 

“I don’t want to break up,” Evan says in a small voice. He  _ doesn’t _ . He wants Connor, but not to the point where it’d be unhealthy. 

Jared tilts his head to look him in the eye, and stiffens at what he sees, expression turning vaguely panicked. “Oh shit. Uh—Evan, you won’t. You’re not gonna break up. I—” he breaks off, looking at Evan desperately. “Are you going to cry?” 

“No,” Evan sniffs. 

“Um. Okay. It’ll be okay, dude.” 

Evan pulls the pillow he’s clutching to his chest up to his head, hiding his face. “Ugh. Hopefully.” 

A tentative touch to his arm makes him peek over the edge of the pillow, startled. Jared looks deeply uncomfortable, but he doesn’t pull his hand back. His palm is warm against the outside of Evan’s wrist. It occurs to Evan that he’s trying to be  _ comforting.  _

They stare at each other for a few moments, and then Jared says, “This is the gayest thing I’ve ever done.” 

Evan can’t help the snort that escapes him. “This is the least gay thing I’ve ever done.” 

Jared scrunches his nose up.

-

** _(before)_ **

_ “I’m sorry, baby, but I won’t make it home tonight. There’s frozen pizza in the freezer and—” _

_ “N-no, mom, I’m at a friend’s house,” Evan whispered into the phone. “You promised you’d pick me up, remember?” _

_ “Oh, right, the Murphy’s,” Heidi mused. ”Yes, I remember. I’m sorry, honey, but I promised Beth I’d take her shift and she’s already left! Can’t you ask them to drive you home?” _

_ “I-I don’t—” _

_ “That’s great, Ev,” she sighed, relieved. “Thank you so much for understanding.” There was a click as the line went dead. _

_ Evan turned around to face the rest of the Murphy family. Connor raised his eyebrows, the others just looked confused. “My mom can’t pick me up today.” _

_ Mr. and Mrs. Murphy exchanged glances; Zoe looked sympathetic. Connor, however, heaved a huge sigh and got to his feet. “Fine, I’ll drive you.” _

_ - _

**(now)**

To Evan’s surprise, Connor does actually apologize. Not so much apologize as look immensely regretful, but Evan knows him well enough to not need the verbal distinction. They had barely talked to each other in a week, the times they were forced to spend together stiff and tense with silence. Evan had promised himself he wouldn’t be the one to apologize again, but it had been difficult as  _ hell.  _ He  _ missed  _ Connor.

In one of the surly silences, while Connor is watching TV and Evan is pointedly reading a book on the piece of furniture as far away from the couch as possible (which happened to be a small stepping stool), Connor lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

“Please come here,” he says, suddenly looking straight at Evan.

Evan startles so much that his book slips from his fingers. He hasn’t heard Connor’s voice in four days.

“What?”

“Please come here,” Connor repeats, “I’m sick and tired of this shit. You haven’t told me that you love me in thirteen days and seventeen hours.”

Evan blinks at him. Tentatively, he stretches his legs and reaches down to pick up the book, not taking his eyes from Connor. “Are you actually sorry? Or do you just miss me?”

Connor gnaws on his lip, looking moderately guilty. “Can it be both?”

Evan closes his eyes and prays for patience, before allowing the smile that he’s been holding back to escape. Connor will apologize, in his own way, but Evan would be more productive waiting for the sun to explode than to wait for Connor to apologize using words. He’ll apologize by washing the dishes more frequently, by holding Evan more tightly than usual, by being nice to Jared for a couple hours.

“Okay,” he says, and walks into Connor’s outstretched arms.

Connor holds him close to his chest for a long while, and then does the unexpected. He mumbles, “And I really am sorry,” into Evan’s hair, quietly enough that Evan might have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. 

The darkness in his chest flinches and recedes. 

-

** _(before)_ **

_ “Hey, Evan!” _

_ Evan recognized the voice, but couldn’t really believe his ears. Why would he be talking to Evan? In school? _

_ “Connor?” He said uncertainly, turning around while vehemently denying that his stomach had done a happy little flip at the sound of his name being said by that certain voice. Connor stood just behind him, hands shoved into his pockets. His hair was just slightly wilder than usual, new crinkles in his forehead. His mouth was just the same as always, though. Turned down at the corners. _

_ “Hey,” Connor whispered, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Zoe’s sick. That’s why she hasn’t been here for the past few days. She wanted me to tell you. And she wanted me to ask you if it’d be okay for you to work on it over the weekend. I mean, you’ve never done that before so she’s kind of—” Connor broke off, looking perplexed. “Are you okay?” _

_ Evan was glad he’d stopped relaying potentially important information, because his ears had stopped listening around ‘Zoe’s sick’, and instead switched over to the endless stream of ‘shitshitshitshitshit’ that his mind had started playing. If Zoe wasn’t here, than Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t drive them back to their place, which meant that Evan was stuck without a ride because Heidi already knew that Tuesdays and Thursdays were Working At The Murphy’s days. The bus’s left before Evan could today, and the walk home was far and dangerous. Heidi would freak if she knew he’d walked it, and Evan didn’t want to drag her away from the extra shift that she’d started to take at this time. _

_ Desperately trying to keep his anxiety off his face while searching for alternative options, he hastily said, “Oh, I’m sorry that she’s sick,” and then promptly wanted to kick himself. Connor had said other things after that. What were they? _

_ Connor scrunched up his nose. “Are you sick too or something? You’re really pale.” _

_ Evan heaved a resigned sigh and pulled his bag more securely onto his shoulders. “I-It’s fine, I just don’t, uh, have a way home now? But I’ll figure it out, it’s fine, tell her I said ‘get well soon’—” _

_ Connor arched an eyebrow. “I can drive you.” _

_ “O-oh, that’s not necessary—” _

_ “Bullshit,” Connor said, but it was in a mild tone, not anything that would make Evan nervous or stutter or apprehensive. “I’ll meet you after Calculus. You know what my car looks like?” _

_ Evan blinked at him, but could find no reason to refuse. “Yes.” _

_ “Okay. See you then.” Connor stepped around him and walked away without another word. _

_ True to his word, Connor approached him after Calculus. It was only when Evan was buckling in his seatbelt that he started to feel the first twinges of nervousness. Connor’s driving left something to be desired, and it had been fine at night, when few cars were on the road, but in the daytime, Evan didn’t particularly feel like suffering three heart attacks due to near crashes. _

_ “I remember your address,” Connor said dismissively when Evan opened his mouth to voice his doubts. _

_ “Uh—” _

_ “Also, I skipped lunch, so we’re going to have to stop at Subway. That okay?” He didn’t wait for Evan’s reply. “Cool.”  _

_ Connor put his foot to the pedal, and Evan clamped his mouth shut. There were concerns that shouldn’t be voiced once the car was moving. _

_ They stopped at a Subway, as Connor had warned. He bought Evan a sub despite his protests, and they sat in the warm, brightly lit restaurant, quietly eating and avoiding each other’s eyes. Or, at least, Evan avoided Connor’s eyes. Connor had no such inhibitions, but he also didn’t appear to want to start a conversation. _

_ Still, Evan felt like one should be breached. “Thanks for driving me.” _

_ Connor shrugged. “It was the noble thing to do.” _

_ Evan frowned at him. “You don’t care about that.” _

_ Connor gave him one of his rare smiles. “Nah. But Zoe would have straight up murdered me if she found out I left you without a ride home. Just looking out for myself, really.” _

_ Evan stifled a smile of his own. He knew that Connor wasn’t afraid of Zoe, that if he hadn’t wanted to give Evan a ride home, he wouldn’t have. He also hadn’t needed to buy Evan a sub, or to eat them in the restaurant. If they’d eaten them in the car while they drove, he’d have been able to get rid of Evan much earlier. _

_ Connor had a very secluded and private way of showing affection, and while Evan desperately didn’t want to read into false notions and get his hopes up, it provoked a warm feeling in his chest anyway. He didn’t know what to do about that. _

_ - _

**(now)**

So it wasn’t perfect. Neither of them had ever thought it would be perfect. All they’d been hoping for when they slipped out of their houses in the dead of night was for somewhere to be  _ better _ , to be less stifling and more open, the freedom of open air. 

Jared eventually managed to move out, to Connor’s immense relief. Some wounds leave scars that will never disappear, and though they can fade, become softer, they will forever be there. Connor’s feelings towards Jared follow the same thread. He’s become more tolerant of him, but Evan knows they will probably never truly be friends. 

Evan and Jared are friends, though. Connor respects that. He only complains for a few minutes when he hears that Jared lives only a few blocks away from their apartment.

Evan thinks that maybe someday, he’ll want to go to college. He tells this to Connor when they’re curled up together on the couch one evening. 

“Sounds cool,” Connor says, like he means it. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to, though.” 

“That’s fine.”

It is.

-

_ If Evan was being completely honest, he hadn’t been expecting it when Connor kissed him. Connor wasn’t one for open signs of affection; he barely ever gave the slightest hint that he cared more about Evan than he did for the average person. It was the small things you had to look for with Connor: the open way he talked, the small crooked smiles, the way he’d sit close. With Connor, you had to be observant. You had to care. _

_ Evan wouldn’t classify himself as the most observant person out there, but he did genuinely care about Connor. His chest ached whenever Connor stormed away from fights with his parents, whenever Connor scowled, whenever Connor’s sleeves rode up to reveal white puckered scars. _

_ Evan was completely all right with just sitting with Connor, with giving him company when he needed it. Because Evan  _ understood.

_ Zoe didn’t. Evan could feel their friendship becoming strained once he started spending more time with Connor. Could feel the confused glances she sent his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t blame her; he knew her own relationship with Connor left something to be desired. _

_ It was a day when Evan was there, withstanding Mr. Murphy and Zoe’s disapproving looks. A supper, a fight, Connor storming out. Something about the drugs Mrs. Murphy had found in his drawer. _

_ Evan followed him outside into the backyard, and found Connor under the small awning that the Murphy’s set up on the hottest of summer days. It wasn’t hot that day; instead blustery and cool, small drops of rain beading on Evan’s arms. _

_ “You okay?” he mumbled, though he knew that nothing was okay in this moment, least of all Connor. _

_ “They hate me,” Connor answered venomously. “They wouldn’t care if I died.  _ Fuck,  _ I wish I’d just managed to kill myself that time I tried. It’s not like they’d fucking miss me.” _

_ Evan crawled over to sit next to him under the awning, hidden from the view of the house and passerby’s. “I’d miss you.” _

_ Connor’s knee pressed against Evan’s, shoulders touching and arms touching. There hadn’t been a reason to sit so close, but— _

_ —Connor kissed him, a hand cupping Evan’s cheek to keep him there, the other warm against Evan’s neck. There weren't any fireworks or sparks or any kind of raw heat, but it was Connor, and his shirt was under Evan’s fingertips. It was warmth against the chilly wind, skin against skin. _

_ “Why did you kiss me back?” Connor whispered when they broke apart, forehead pressed against Evan’s, breaths still mingling together. _

_ “Because I like you?” Evan offered. _

_ “What?” Connor was genuinely baffled, but his hands were still on Evan’s neck, holding him gently in place. _

_ “Is it so hard to believe?”  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I want to make it clear that I don't hate Connor's family. I love Zoe!! I think Cynthia tries!! It's just that Larry kind of strikes a wrong cord in me. It just feels like he didn't try very much, and yes, Connor was responsible for a lot of it too, but still. I don't actually know if he would have reacted to Evan like he did in here, he actually probably might not have, but that's my interpretation. I'm sorry if you disagree with my characterizations, but that's how I wrote them, and it'll stay that way.


End file.
